


budding

by pseudocitrus



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: F/F, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She might still be a novice, but Hairu is determined to bring down a high-ranked ghoul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	budding

**Author's Note:**

> done for tg-femslash-week~ the prompt was "taste."
> 
> hope you're having a good day!

At their first encounter — she’s sure she has it. She can practically taste it on her tongue.

Every move she executes is perfect. One masked ghoul falls, and then another, and then another. Someone in the squad whistles.

And then, just when Hairu is raising her arm to plunge her quinque into some sniveling monster’s neck — someone appears, in a flash.

_No!_

Hairu is quick, but it’s too late — Aus’s blade buries into the cement. She withdraws it, sucks in a breath, lunges — but once again, it’s not enough. The ghoul is gone, with Hairu’s quarry in tow.

Hairu huffs.

_Next time,_ she thinks, and when the squad picks up the trail again, she’s prepared. She’s practiced, against everyone available that dared it, and then with the stumpy dummies that become the only ones she can get to face her.

Her timing is impeccable. Her speed is incredible. She is the Garden’s best and when she picks out the dark-suited ghoul from before, she separates them out from the rest, pursues mercilessly, and yells with frustration when she turns a corner and sees only a dense wall of kagune, all gnarls and thorns and failure. She hacks away at it, reduces to twigs in less than a minute, and is rewarded only with an empty corridor that echoes back her snarl of disgust.

Ui’s brow is furrowed when she gets back. He has a lot of things to say, stuff about _breaking formation_ and _no excuses_ and _do you even realize how many innocent people have been kidnapped this far?_ His cigarette is bobbing wildly.

But Hairu isn’t listening. Her eyes are narrowed, her mouth twisted into a grimace.

After so long of not tasting it, defeat is bitter in her mouth. It’s overpowering. It steeps.

“Hairu.” Ui’s voice cuts through. “You need to improve.”

“I _will_ ,” Hairu grumbles. “I will.”

:::

By the next time they’re out again, she’s prepared, and plotted, carefully.

_I just need to get through._ She focuses, hiding her panting as the masked ghoul stops and turns around to face her. Their dark eyes gleam in the mask’s eyeholes. Their arm lifts, and —

_There!_

Hairu lunges, with Aus’s blades poised outward; and this time, when the kagune detach and start to writhe, Hairu catches them before they intertwine shut. They spring and fall apart in clatters, and Hairu charges through, thrusting straight for the center of the dark suit. She shouts with triumph, and —

Aus bounds back, with a _clang._ Hairu stumbles, catches her footing. The dark-suited ghoul —

Has _another_ kagune. Or rather — a couple more. A perfectly-shaped shield, and a perfectly-shaped sword, which the ghoul is leveling at her calmly. The idea of it, of a ghoul with such a _human_ thing, surprises Hairu so much that she spits out a laugh before she strikes.

It’s for nothing.

The ghoul evades her every motion, or else parries it, with an otherworldly ease. Soon, Hairu is brushing sweat from her face, even as the ghoul’s mask betrays no hint of effort whatsoever. With a furious shout, Hairu heaves Aus down, trying to win with sheer strength, but the ghoul just catches her blow and holds it. The shield barely splinters.

The ghoul’s back is pressing up against a wall. Their face is just centimeters away.

“You’re improving,” the ghoul says, and Hairu blinks in shock, and then snorts.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say,” she growls. She tries to push Aus a little deeper, and is rewarded with a tiny splinter of Rc cells skittering to the ground. The blade brushes the mask’s brow.

“You’re improving,” the ghoul repeats. “Have you found a reason to fight?”

“It won’t matter to you in a minute,” Hairu replies.

Her teeth are gritted into a smile. Her quinque is close now, so close, to splitting that mask in half. Their bodies are so close that Hairu can hear the ghoul swallow, can hear them hiss with effort. Hairu can smell roses. And then —

_“Hairu!”_

It’s just the right distraction. Her focus ruptures, and the ghoul shifts, tilting Aus so Hairu ends up slamming it into the wall.

And then, before she can curse, the ghoul is gone.

:::

After the debriefing, Ui’s brow is furrowed. He waves off Hairu’s accusation (“ _You distracted me!”)._ He has a lot of things to say, stuff about _we met our objective_ and _retreat after abductions were handled_ and _what’s the matter with you?_ His cigarette is bobbing wildly.

Hairu barely hears any of it. The few words that reach her ears put a taste in her mouth more sour than the one she had earlier. Ui sighs.

“I know you’re excited,” he says. “But that ghoul — I recognize her, now. Matsumae is too high a rank for you to take on. So, take it easy. _Please_ ,” he says, when Hairu opens her mouth to protest. “I know you were the best in your class, but you’re still new. At this stage, you prove yourself by being obedient. Not by being reckless.”

“Fine,” Hairu mutters. “Understood.”

:::

At night, she tosses and turns the situation over and over again in her head.

She’s sick of Ui always doing this. Always — cutting her down. Even today he had just bowed his head graciously when their squad had been complimented, even though he _knew_ that Matsumae was the leader, _knew_ that the reason the abduction had gotten foiled was because Hairu had flushed her out.

_If this is the game_ , she thinks, _then, fine._

She can earn their praise in obedience. Their squad goes out and Hairu makes a point of it, wresting victims back from their attackers mission after mission. She catches up to Matsumae when it’s relevant, and sometimes, still, they fight; but when Matsumae backs off, Hairu does too, and then merely watches, wordless, as Matsumae retreats.

It’s agony. Matsumae, it’s clear, is confused as well. The fluidity of her motion turns jagged; she seems to be waiting. One time, Matsumae doesn’t draw back.

“Have you lost it?” she asks, and Hairu frowns.

“Your reason,” Matsumae elaborates.

“I’m not talking to you,” Hairu tells her, curtly. “Orders.”

Matsumae’s mouth is visible beneath her mask; she smiles.

“I understand that well enough,” she answers. “It’s unfortunate at times, isn’t it?”

Hairu hesitates. Something in that voice is…lacking. Lacking aggression. Suddenly, the air between them isn’t charged with bloodlust and the beckon of victory.

It’s just…normal. The kind of atmosphere between two talking people.

“You were doing so well,” Matsumae tells her. “Have you given up?”

Hairu purses her lips. She turns and walks off to rejoin her squad, feeling Matsumae’s eyes on her nape.

_If Matsumae attacks_ , Hairu thinks, _I’ll be justified._

But she doesn’t.

:::

Hairu retreats. She bows her head at all the right times. She swallows down her protests. She smiles kindly during debriefs. She forces her gaze away from Matsumae’s silhouette, suppresses all thoughts of her and her rose-scented trail and ways that Hairu herself can emulate Matsumae’s serenity. When Hairu loses her footing and gets a ghoul tooth embedded in her forearm, she doesn’t even wince.

Ui’s brow seems to furrow even deeper then. That, she has to admit to herself, is almost worth it.

Almost.

“Well?” she asks, some weeks later, and Ui blinks at her.

“Well, what?”

“Well,” Hairu says. “Haven’t I been doing a good job?”

She waits, patiently. Ui stares at her, and then bursts into laughter.

“What is it that do you want?” he asks. “A promotion for doing your basic duties?”

“What? No!” Hairu cries. “That’s not it at all!”

But the cigarette is already coming out again. Before he can even get started, Hairu spins on her heel, and storms away.

:::

She’s sick of this.

And she knows what she wants.

Weeks of tracking the abductions has given Hairu a good idea of Matsumae’s preferred type of hunting grounds, and she heads out, hours sooner than their squad plans to. It only takes skimming two districts before she finds their ideal prey, and only half an hour after that when she perceives people shadowing the drunken idiot around.

Masked ghouls. Matsumae should be near.

Silently, Hairu unclasps her suitcase.

By then, it’s too late.

“Dove-san,” she hears, and Hairu gasps, and leaps back, just in time to avoid the smash of a sword-shaped kagune directly where she had been hiding.

_Did she know I was coming?_

Matsumae has her sword and shield already; she spins the former, almost lazily, letting Hairu get steady and onto her feet. Nervously, Hairu looks toward the other masked ghouls further on, and then cringes as she fends off a blow, almost too late.

“Focus,” Matsumae says, and Hairu snorts.

“Really? An order? From _you_?”

“You seem to enjoy them,” Matsumae says, and Hairu laughs.

“Well, it’s true that I’m not a failure who has yet to bring back a body for their master,” she replies brightly. “They getting hungry?”

“Quite,” Matsumae says, and lunges. Her blade thrusts, and Hairu dodges, easily, and with a smile.

_This_ , Hairu realizes with glee, _is it_.

Their weapons sing. The feeling of the air sliding between them is smooth and swift and satisfying; even when their blades meet, it’s with a slickness like running hands through freshly-washed hair. Hairu beats Matsumae back against a wall again, and Matsumae makes her way out of it again, and Hairu pursues, with her heart rising and drumming and dancing in her chest.

_This time —_ _this time —_

Her timing is impeccable. Her speed is incredible. She is the Garden’s best and Ui can say whatever he wants but this is what Hairu deserves, not the sticks that the CCG throws for her, but an opponent like _this_ , like water and steel and with a scent of roses that seems to get stronger as Hairu finally, finally spots sweat start to glisten on Matsumae’s face. As Matsumae brushes it away with a glove, she stumbles. Hairu’s smile is so wide it hurts.

_There!_

One _push_ — and Matsumae is even further off-balance. Hairu yanks her arm back, and aims, just as Matsumae looks toward her in shock.

_This time — you are mine_!

Aus descends, straight onto Matsumae’s unshielded skull.

Hairu is quick, but it’s too late. The blade cracks through the mask, and Matsumae dodges out of the way before it can sink any further. As Matsumae straightens, the mask pieces tumble from her face, and…

And…

Hairu wasn’t sure what she was expecting, really. Scars of some kind, maybe — or blood — some indication of _monster_. But Matsumae — doesn’t look like what a ghoul should look like. Her eyes are dark and rich as ink; her gaze encompasses. Hairu’s breath catches. Matsumae…

…is beautiful.

Her daze ruins everything. Matsumae’s wrist flicks, and a gnarled mass knocks Aus from Hairu’s hand. Hairu hisses, and Matsumae kicks out her leg, dropping Hairu to the ground.

Hairu starts to scream, and then stops, just in time, whimpering as her teeth bite down and tear her lip. The other masked ghouls will just come running if she cries for help. She reaches for Aus’s hilt —

— and then can’t move any further. Matsumae has grabbed her arm. Matsumae’s fingers tighten slightly, and Hairu can’t budge a centimeter.

Matsumae’s other hand moves to Hairu’s throat, and Hairu trembles.

“You performed admirably,” Matsumae murmurs. Her mouth — _a ghoul’s mouth_  — seems so much like a human’s. Even her lips have the faintest gloss of color.

_This is it,_ Hairu realizes. Her mouth is dry and filled with the taste of iron from where she bit herself earlier. Ui was right. Matsumae is too high-ranked, too powerful. She’s practically exuding power.

And now — now that Hairu’s squad has prevented Matsumae’s group from taking any bodies at all to their starving master —

“No,” Matsumae whispers.

“What?” Hairu gasps. Matsumae’s nails stroke the bone of Hairu’s throat, up to the curve behind her ear.

“What you’re thinking is incorrect,” Matsumae says. “I won’t take you to them. You are mine.”

Her eyes are dark and rich as ink; her gaze encompasses. Hairu’s breath catches. Without thinking, her lips part, just a little, and Matsumae leans forward, and kisses her, gently.

They inhale, together. Their bodies come a little closer; the strands of their hair intertwine. Then Matsumae pulls away, but not before her tongue softly laps up the blood from Hairu’s bitten lip. She releases Hairu’s arm and starts to retreat, but it’s too late. Hairu is already lunging, and with one swift motion she drags Matsumae’s face back to hers.

:::

Ui’s brow is furrowed when she gets back. He has a lot of things to say, stuff like  _where the hell were you_ and _we couldn’t find the masked ghouls without you_  and _did you even catch her?_  Cigarette ashes are practically frothing with saliva in the corner of his mouth.

But Hairu isn’t listening. She smiles back, blandly, hands folded behind her back. At the last moment she had bitten Matsumae’s lower lip, and the sharp taste of it lingers on her tongue. It’s overpowering. It steeps.

:::

Hairu had sighed as she kissed her, drawn in a long and fragrant breath, and the droplets had bloomed on her tongue with the flavor of roses.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
